Tuesday, July 31, 2012

the gift she gave me

"Be yourself. Life is precious as it is. All the elements for your happiness are already here. There is no need to run, strive, search, or struggle. Just be."
~ Thich Nhat Hanh

the gift she gave me
      maddie rhondeau

Different things. 
Grateful first. 
Regretful second.
Never fully take it in.
Scared lastly. 
Pending responsibilities at home. 

Selfishly hoping.
To see a change. 
More worldly? 
More interesting?
Maybe just happier.
I don't know. 

Nowadays how am I? 
Too judgmental about the wrong things. 
Give the right people a chance.
The ill-advised.
I don't have time for anymore.
My resolution.
About being alone. 
Forgot what it was like. 
I missed it. 
I need it. 

Train was delayed. 
Group of Americans.
Running. 
A month ago. 
Me. 
Terrified. 
Nervous. 
Ready for a change. 
The girls are gone. 
Back in the states. 
So I sat alone. 
Watched the Parisians.
Curse loudly.
Gaze blankly. 

I liked it that way.
Strangely enough. 

Sitting alone. 
Staring out the train window. 
Sophia Coppola sketch.

I found what you gave me. 
It had that quote on it. 
My nineteenth birthday.
I cried. 
Applicable to the moment. 

What I've learned here. 
This sentiment. 
To live alone. 
To create alone. 
To learn alone. 

To experience and enjoy alone. 
And to be satisfied. 

That is not a failure.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

course incroyable

HIPSTER HAIKUS
Paris édition

Smith said find them all. 
It was a work-out but I'll
always remember.

Tasked with the job of completing an unforgiving scavenger hunt, we ambitiously set out to differentiate our photography from the other teams. Thus was born Hipster Haiku - Paris édition. Tragically, the haikus I wrote on the metro were not posted with the pictures that Katie and Lauren took, so I am taking the opportunity to post them now.

Fanny Packs
That is so retro. 
Normally I would say yes, 
But that is heinous. 

American Cars in Paris
A sea of smart cars. 
No hummers for Parisians. 
Says you have small feet. 


Public Displays of Affection
Yes I grabbed your butt.  
I am Bonnie to your Clyde. 
Go ahead and judge. 

Translation Fails
I don't understand
"Tonight I made a party."
French boys talk pretty. 

Labels aren't Vintage
Consumer culture. 
Pretentious with her fendi. 
My Ray Bans don't count. 

At the market
No corn syrup please
I only eat organic
And drink tall Starbucks. 

3 euro Vintage
Spent almost nothing. 
Parisians dress "up-tight" chic
Look like I don't care. 

     

Saturday, July 21, 2012

danseur à chambord

trois en rose

ew la la

brut
FACT: In 1985, sewer cleaners discovered an escaped zoo crocodile happily cruising through the Parisian sewer system. 
He felt the Seine was too dirty.

palais lachaise

corneille

In July of 2012, one
Historic Preservation student 
disappeared unexpectedly in the 
Palais Lachaise cemetery, 
while studying Urban Planning.

A week later she blogged about it.*



I prefer gloomy days. For one, overcast days are the best natural glamor lighting. In the right situations, cloud-cover can enhance the drama of any environment. So with cloud cover, light rain, the cawing of crows on crosses, a crisp breeze, and the date being Friday the 13th, I entered the famous Palais Lachaise cemetery. 

Built in 1804, the Palais Lachaise cemetery influenced the future designs of American cemeteries. Unique to France is the utilization of the "stacked" grave. With a stacked grave, more than one coffin can be placed in a burial plot. This is highly different than burial practices in the United States, where one coffin equates to one burial plot. In addition, headstones are not the marker of choice for burials in France. Small buildings and stone slabs built over the graves populate the Palais Lachaise cemetery. Each have unique architectural design and ornamental motifs. Upside down torches, skeletons, time turners, and broken columns all chronicle the passage of time and indicate loss of life.

A friend with bright green eyes peered up at me from behind the headstone. Her black fur bristled with anxiety, and her ears lay flat against her skull. The irony. 

* As an aside, I actually did get separated from the group in the cemetery. I'm smarter than those "A level media students". I just stayed put and ate Kinder Bueno.

respect

individus
"He has to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is detestable. And it has a fascination, too, which goes to work upon him. The fascination of the abomination--you know. Imagine the growing regrets, the longing to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate."
- Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness, Part 1


I know as an American tourist I'm supposed to "oh la la" at the skulls and bones in the Catacombs. But my initial impression left me comparing and contrasting the ethical practices of preservationists in France and the United States.

I don't believe as a preservation major you could walk through the Catacombs and not instantly think of NAGPRA. The Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act prevents the displacement and looting of Native American burial remains within the United States. A government-sanctioned law, there is a very powerful stress on the professional obligations of archaeologists to treat human remains with respect. In the United States, the interpretive narrative of the deceased is largely focused on the individual, or the culture of the individual. So strong is the emphasis on the tactful handling of burial remains in the United States, that the Catacombs are both startling, and fascinating to the American preservationist. 

Originally a stone quarry, the Catacombs were constructed as a storage alternative for the dead when the city's communal pit ceased to be an effective method. For all intents and purposes, the Catacombs is a tourist attraction. The bones and skulls of thousands of deceased Parisians have been haphazardly arranged into ornate wall decor. 
I cite NAGPRA for the difference in cultural attitudes about grave repatriation, and the ethical handling of human remains. The Catacombs have effectively objectified the bones of the deceased through their arrangement as art. Does the lack of a narrative story and human identification for the millions of bones in the Catacombs justify their dehumanization? Opinions on the presence of the Catacombs are fairly split. 

Traversing down to the depths of the quarry, you'll find Americans, Parisians, and Marilyn Manson enthusiasts under the streets of Denfer-Rouchereau. To me, the Catacombs are too detached from the humanity that was once supported by this bizarre form of ornamentation. It is hard to not walk through its winding passages and not think of all the beautiful people.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

offensé

versailles
"Haters gon' hate."
~ moi

It's my own "c'est la vie", but better. If you can't grasp the very basic nature of the phrase, it should be interpreted very much like the southern saying "bless your heart". As a rule, I don't openly hate anything because I feel it is imperative to fight this recent trend within my generation to be averse to everything. To be frank, my biggest pet peeves are apathy, teeth-whistling, and disliking something just to be contrary. I also feel that hate truly is a strong word, and rarely do I use it as a way to describe how I feel. 

But I hated Versailles. 


My inner sassy preservation major was just screaming, "What!? What!? What are you DOING!!?"  
This thing. 
This troll.  
Lurking in the corner of the queen's bed chambers. 
Why? 
I can't describe in words the initial confusion I felt when I saw this monstrosity amongst some of the most beautiful examples of eighteenth-century French art. But it didn't stop there. Every room contained a piece of modern art by contemporary Portuguese artist Joana Vasconcelos. Not only was it distracting from the design and decor of each room, there were no labels or translations in the self-guided audio tours with an explanation of the modern art. They were just there. 

So to circle back, this hater was hatin'. What I've decided to do is to channel this very obvious rage I feel towards the modern art displayed in Versailles into my topic for my final research paper. I will use Versailles to discuss the negative implications of incorporating contemporary art on historic sites. I will more specifically discuss the destruction of integrity and authenticity of these historic sites by allowing modern art to be displayed. In addition, I will discuss the very real identity crisis of Versailles, and the mixed message being sent to tourists by using Versailles as a format to display contemporary art. 

When I have a finished product, I'll post it for some light reading.  

  

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

relevant


  
amy. hannah. katie.


I tend to over dramatize things... maybe a little. You hear that mom, yes. I'm admitting it.  I'm a self-diagnosed dramatic erratic. Better yet, I'm a classic woman. And the problem is that, until recently, the majority of my friends have been male. So what happens is this: where most girls talk it out with their girlfriends and over-analyze every excruciating detail of the situation, I spend ten to eleven hours at a restaurant every day, and second-guess every element of a person's intentions and a trivially awkward situation. Solo. Or better yet, I'm told to not worry about it, and play Smash Bros. instead. 
No bueno for moi. 
I'm beginning to realize that talking to women is a cathartic process, and that I've really been depriving myself of female company because I figured I'm too weird to hang out with girls. 
Besides the initial bout of culture stress, Paris has been good for me for a lot of reasons.  I was sitting at a cafe this morning with my baguette, my tiny jams, and orange juice, and had some of the best conversation with two girls from class that I have had in a long time. I have met some of the smartest, funniest, down to earth, and weirdest girls I've ever known. Awesome, and so cool. 
I know this is a post that isn't relevant to Paris, but really, it actually is. Paris has drawn me out of my comfort zone in more ways than one. I can now order food without fear, I have been self-navigating an entire city, and I've made new girl friends. Cliche? Yes, of course. But I had to have one post about something like this, right? Plus, mommy has been haranguing me for pictures of my new friends. 

Today made me both happy and sad. I wished I had met the girls from this trip sooner rather than later. But overall I'm in a good place, because I'm happy I met them now rather than not at all. 
Merci, Paris.

 

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

equisse deux


equisse une


This is a conceptual sketch for my Independent Study final project. I will be creating a painting based on my interpretation of the term: adaptive reuse. For the next couple of days I will be chronicling the painting's evolution.  

jouir.

ce qu'est un monde merveilleux

chocolat hippo

Monday, July 16, 2012

jardin du luxembourg

la grotte

“Two things cannot be in one place. Where you tend a rose, my lad, a thistle cannot grow.” 
- Frances Hodgson Burnett: "The Secret Garden"
 
From the Port Royal metro station to the gates of the Luxembourg, everything is light and open. Constructed during the peak of garden design in France, the Luxembourg gardens are famous for the formality of their gardening techniques, and their elaborately ornate fountains. This very regimented design is evident in their extensive use of terminal vistas and the overwhelmingly symmetrical composition of their plantings. According to the French gardener, he designs nature. 

At the instruction of Marie de Medicis were the Luxembourg gardens constructed. With women having very little power in government at that period in history, they had to be creative in their ways of exercising influence in France. This assertion of power is reflected in the gardens of Luxembourg, where all the statues have been modeled in the image of women. 

Pouvoir fille? Oui.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

je veux monter mon vélo

temps calme

miam-miam

une tendance de framboise

epitome

la réutilisation adaptée

I am not a single voice when I gush about "pres". 

I have a very tender place in my heart for all things historical and literary, and feel a deep moral inclination to support the arts. Historic Preservation has an unyielding fan-club. Yet split between the department are what a friend and I like to call the "practitioners" and the "romantics". 

Under the tree of Historic Preservation lies Urban Planning, an approach that deals with the incorporation of new growth and development. This sub-field requires a cognizance of established community and history. Meaning: it's challenging. At times, requiring one to be creative. Business-minded preservationists are naturally drawn to this field of study. Hence, what my friend and I like to call the "practitioners". If you haven't already guessed, I would consider myself as such with my interest in adaptive reuse. 

Then there are the "romantics". Those who think the practice of adaptive reuse, and methods like adaptive reuse, should not be considered preservation. By adding modern utilities, the integrity of a structure is completely destroyed, and its authenticity lost. However, options are limited to maintain a historic house or site purely on government and private funding. In the United States, with very few exceptions standing independently as economically viable, the actual preservation of these places can be shoddy at best. 

It is clear where my allegiance lies in the field of preservation. I think adaptive reuse is the "bee's knees" as far as I'm concerned.  I don't mean to say that adaptive reuse should always be the answer, because I don't. When I walk into a place such as Versailles, I don't think it should be transformed into a contemporary art museum (can you tell I'm bitter?). I don't think that all historic homes should be re-purposed into a bed and breakfast or a small coffee shop. 

Nevertheless, I love adaptive reuse, and I do consider myself a history aficionado. So you can imagine my high for the day was our class visit to the Musée d'Orsay

With its bold sculptural details and its highly symmetrical facade, the museum stands as a prime example of Beaux-Arts design. Originally constructed in 1898 as a train station, the museum now holds mainly Impressionistic and Post-Impressionistic art from masters such as Degas, Van Gogh, Renoir, Gauguin, Monet, and Manet.  

Isn't there something magical about having to recreate a new identity for a place full of history? 
I've always liked to think using your imagination can be romantic.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

peur


dessus du reste

Smith: "No, it's a [funicular]. An elevator can only go up and down, but the [funicular] can go sideways, and slantways, and longways, and backways..." 

Maddie: "And frontways?"   
Smith: "...and squareways, and front ways, and any other ways that you can think of..."

 I have a very strange tendency to make insightful conclusions about myself at the most inconvenient or inappropriate of times. Strangely enough, these conclusions are always confirmed while participating in activities I have already previously assessed I have doubts or negative feelings for. A prime example: having a gut-wrenching, phobic reaction while on the funicular moving people to the very top of the Eiffel Tower. Having already known prior to getting on the funicular that I have a strong aversion to heights, piers, and butterflies, does that exclude me from immediate membership into the world-wide community of acrophobes?  

A bonified a la Maddie moment, courtesy of moi.
Don't worry folks. A quick bout of fear tears, hyperventilation, hysteria, and a trip to my mind palace had me remembering that when it was all over, it would be okay. 
Smith said she would buy the class pastries.

But in all seriousness, even acrophobes can't look at the Eiffel Tower and not appreciate its history and legend as an architectural masterpiece (looking up though, standing on beautifully solid ground). Constructed for the World's Fair in 1889, the Eiffel Tower had not been built to remain as a permanent fixture in the Parisian skyline. It was originally intended to be torn down. However, its utilization as a radio tower  in the 1920s saved it from its demolition.The Tower's lightweight truss construction is a feat of engineering might, and stands as an example of one of the last great symbols of French engineering.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Marché aux Fleurs

l'exotique

une pause pour une cigarette
Place Louis-Lépine, Paris 4th
Established in 1808.

extérieur du Louvre

le mariage de l'ancien et le nouveau



pas de mots


one nation, under art


le panthéon
"God made me and broke the mold." - Jean Jacques Rousseau

A glance at the Pantheon, and a bystander feels as though they have been transported to the site of a magnificent Greco-Roman temple. "Aux grands hommes, la patrie reconnaissante" reads on its classically-syled pediment, "To its great men, a grateful fatherland."




The Pantheon holds in its crypts some of the most well known French philosphers, artists, and scientists of all time. A walk down its spiral staircase leads to the burial places of men such as Voltaire, Rousseau, and Alexandre Dumas. Marie Curie, the great physicist and chemist, joined the greats in the Pantheon as well in 1995.   

Its construction in 1758 by Louis XV was designed to celebrate the great French artists. The Panethon's overwhelmingly similar design to the temples of the Greeks and Romans was, indeed, intentional. In this temple of the "artists", Louis XV wished for his people to look to these great writers and philosophers not as talented men, but as men to worship and celebrate as the Greeks did their Gods. 

Une nation, sous l'art.